


a red blazer and a pair of khakis

by orphan_account



Category: HALO (Korea Band), Produce 101 (TV), Produce 101 Japan
Genre: Age Difference, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:34:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21642271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Reito’s eyes narrow and squint as he scrunches his eyebrows into a frown, as if he is trying to dissect Yugo. Yugo chuckles nervously. “What the hell would a grad student want with dumb freshies like us?”Yugo swallows nervously. “Um--” he begins, unsure how to reply. “T-This isn’t high school, Reito, you know, not everyone thinks freshmen are gross and stuff…”(Yugo finds (dumb) ways to keep on seeing the cute seamster that works in the suit shop, and somehow ends up wooing him.)
Relationships: Kim Heecheon/Miyajima Yugo
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	a red blazer and a pair of khakis

“My boyfriend is a grad student,” Yugo says while he scrapes at the bottom of his yogurt carton with a plastic spoon, trying to gather together all the remaining drops of vanilla.

“Mhm,” Reito hums. He rolls his eyes, leaning back in his chair. The two front legs rise up and he balances precariously on the back two. Yugo normally scolds him for doing so, because Reito has most definitely hit the back of his head more than once from the chair sliding out from beneath him and dumping him on the floor, but his friend is too absorbed with some vanilla goodness. “Sure,” Reito says, sounding very unconvinced.

“I’m serious!” Yugo cries. He lets out a frustrated sigh, dropping the yogurt carton and plastic spoon on the dining hall table dramatically. “He’s doing his masters in design and wants to be a fashion designer!”

“I think you’ve finally gone crazy, my dude,” Reito says. There’s a loud _clack!_ as the front legs of his chair smack against the tile floor. “It’s not all those all-nighters you’ve been pulling doing your lab reports and other science-y shit, right?” His eyes widen in concern. Reito’s eyes are already quite big, so when he stares at Yugo like this, searching his friend’s face for any sign of crazy, he looks bug-eyed, like his eyes are about to pop out of their sockets.

“I-I’m being serious,” Yugo says weakly, lips twitching up into a pressured and frankly unconvincing smile. “H-He’s twenty-four and w-works in that suit store on the corner of Sixth and Main str--”

Reito’s eyes narrow and squint as he scrunches his eyebrows into a frown, as if he is trying to dissect Yugo. Yugo chuckles nervously. “What the hell would a grad student want with dumb freshies like us?”

Yugo swallows nervously. “Um--” he begins, unsure how to reply. “T-This isn’t high school, Reito, you know, not everyone thinks freshmen are gross and stuff…” That’s a real fucking lie, and Yugo knows it. He considered himself infinitely lucky that one week, one of the juniors in the photography club invited him to a club excursion to go take pictures.

“I told you, I’m serious, Reito!” Yugo takes a deep breath and sighs when the only reaction he gets is Reito’s left eyebrow twitching. “I can text him now… tell him I want him to meet my friends… it’s about time anyways…” Yugo’s voice fades away into nothing, and the smile on his face is something hovering the middle ground between a genuine grin and an ugly grimace. Honestly, Reito is one of the _last_ people he wants his boyfriend to meet. Reito is a good friend, but Reito also just sucks at talking to people. Right this moment is a prime example of that.

Yugo sighs again, his shoulders sagging, and pulls out his phone. _Hey,_ he types, _I have a friend that I want you to meet._ He presses enter, and the message sends. Yugo pauses, thinking. Perhaps he should warn his boyfriend about Reito. _He comes off kinda mean and rude sometimes but I swear he’s a good g_ \-- before Yugo can even finish typing his sentence, a new chat bubble appears on his screen.

_Okay! When and where do you guys wanna meet?_

Yugo’s thumbs pause. He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly, trying to calm the uneasiness in his stomach. 

He definitely is _real fucking lucky._ Hopefully that luck won’t change when his boyfriend actually does meet Reito.

* * *

It was honestly purely by chance that they’d met. Yugo isn’t like Reito, who will try to shimmy up to a bored-looking girl at a frat party and try to charm her phone number into his contact book. Actually, frat parties are real gross, not because of the alcohol or the random people sucking face in the corner or the smell of thirty bodies crammed into one living room, but because most of the frat houses look like warehouses, and Yugo just can’t roll with that kind of I-feel-like-I’ll-get-murdered kind of shit.

Second week of fall semester meant that all the frats and sororities were rolling out their rush events. Yugo had his eye on one pre-health frat that seemed to overall have a good rep but wasn’t as elitist as some of the ones he’d passed by during the student organization fair. He somehow got to its interview rounds, and, well--

Let’s just say he hadn’t worn a suit since 2008, when his mother tried to enter him in a piano competition (keyword is ‘tried’ -- Yugo cried before the audition and refused to go out on stage).

That’s how he found himself wandering into the nearest suit shop to the university district, a sizeable shop that looks nothing short of a mom-and-pop hole-in-the-wall kind of establishment; but in fact, the moment Yugo steps inside, he is immediately overwhelmed with how _polished_ it feels.

The floors are all shiny oak, the mannequins a woven tan color with brass accents, and the suits themselves are neatly organized along the racks and walls, first by color and then by material. The heating inside the store is running at just the right intensity, unlike most other shops that were often so cold to the point where Yugo would actually have to keep his jacket on, and the scents of leather and fresh laundry are filtered through the air vents. 

Yugo stands there at the entrance like a lost puppy, eyes wide and face confused, until a shop employee pokes his head around a mannequin and immediately takes Yugo by surprise.

“How can I help you, mister?” The employee says, grinning from ear-to-ear. His lips are on the thinner side, making his smile just short of cat-like, but it didn’t seem deceitful at all. In fact, he looks truly happy to see Yugo standing in the doorway.

“Oh!” Yugo jumps an inch in the air. “I, uh, need a suit,” he hurriedly says.

“Well, we have plenty of those,” the employee replies. He reaches out a hand, beckoning Yugo to follow him. “What kind of style do you prefer? Vest, no vest? Bow tie or regular tie? Looser khakis or something a bit tighter?”

“Um…” Yugo murmurs, hesitantly stepping behind the employee. “I don’t know…” He looks down at his feet, biting his lip. “I just need something for an interview.”

“I can most certainly help you with that.” The employee stops at a rack, leaning an arm atop the metal bar, his fingers fiddling with a few hanger hooks. “I’m Heecheon, by the way.”

“I’m Yugo.” Yugo smiles smally, his fingers lacing together in front of his body. “I’m sorry, I really don’t know anything about suits--”

Heecheon waves his hand casually. “That’s okay,” he reassures, “I’ll help you find something that you like. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay!” Yugo replies. He feels the muscles in his shoulders relaxing, and the smile on his lips that’d initially been a bit nervous becomes easy. Heecheon takes the measuring tape that’d been hanging around his neck and stretches it taut, holding it in front of Yugo.

“Mind if I measure you?”

“Go ahead.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Yugo. Please come with me to the fitting room mirrors.”

_Mister…_ Yugo feels heat begin to rise underneath his cheeks. When was the last time someone referred to him using “mister”, and not as a joke? The title makes him feel a bit bashful. “Um, just ‘Yugo’ is fine,” he murmurs, tilting his head slightly as he watches Heecheon maneuver around him with the measuring tape.

He sees Heecheon nod. “Then, Yugo, arms up in a T, please,” Heecheon says. Yugo nods his head, raising his arms. He is suddenly aware of Heecheon’s thumb pressing against the side of his wrist, holding the measuring tape in place. Yugo can practically feel Heecheon’s gaze studying him carefully. He raises his chin, looking at his reflection in the mirror, before his eyes flit over to Heecheon, who silently mouths a number before letting the measuring tape go loose.

A couple more measurements later, and Heecheon stands up straight, turning to face the mirror and looking directly at Yugo’s reflection. “We can start with a button-down and blazer,” he says. “Do you have a color preference?”

Yugo shakes his head. “Anything is fine,” he hums.

Heecheon’s eyes light up, and suddenly he looks almost eager, even though his expression didn't really seemed to change. “Then I’ll recommend a few pieces for you. Is that okay, Yugo?”

Yugo nods immediately. For some reason, he already trusts Heecheon’s judgment despite the fact Heecheon hadn’t yet grabbed anything off the racks. Maybe it’s due to his seemingly genuine friendliness towards Yugo, or maybe it’s due to how obviously excited he is at the prospect of getting to style Yugo. Heecheon is almost the complete opposite of what Yugo would expect from an employee of a fancy men’s formalwear store, from his attitude down to the way he’s dressed: a loose striped chiffon shirt with a pair of black jeans and white sneakers. It's new, but it really helps, at least. The butterflies that’d initially been in Yugo’s stomach have now disappeared; he’s now much more comfortable, and he lets out a small sigh.

“Your hair is a very rich shade of brown. It’s not dyed, is it?” Heecheon asks.

“Oh, no, it’s not,” Yugo replies, shaking his head.

“It’s a very pretty color,” Heecheon adds, giggling when he sees the shy and embarrassed smile on Yugo’s lips. “So instead of the standard black, I’m thinking a navy blue or a crimson red for you. I think it’ll make you look brighter.”

“‘Brighter’?” Yugo murmurs questioningly, looking up at Heecheon’s reflection. 

Heecheon nods. “More alive might be a better way to put it. The interview process can be quite drab and boring, so it might be nice to put some fun in it, even if it’s just changing the color of your blazer.”

“I see.” Yugo looks back at his own reflection, scrunching his eyebrows slightly as he tries to imagine himself wearing a navy blue or crimson red blazer. “I’ll be right back,” he hears Heecheon say, amusement evident in his tone, and Yugo turns around to watch Heecheon retreat back to the racks.

It’s then that Yugo realizes how handsome Heecheon is, from his tall and light stature to the dark black of his hair and the defined shape of his face; but there’s also something else about him that catches Yugo’s interest -- maybe it’s his sheer confidence.

He clearly knows what he’s doing, flipping through hangers on racks upon racks of clothing on both the store floor and walls. Yugo watches him in part awe and part curiosity, and when Heecheon reroutes back to him, catching Yugo momentarily staring, Yugo whips his gaze away.

“Here,” Heecheon says, grinning and holding out three articles of clothing. “I got you a simple white button-down too. You can go ahead into any of the fitting rooms.”

“Thank you,” Yugo says, taking the clothing from Heecheon’s outstretched arms, and stepping behind one of the red curtains in the fitting room.

Half an hour later and Yugo finds himself standing in front of the mirror once again, this time in full formal attire. Yugo has his chin lifted, letting Heecheon adjust his tie, which is made of a simple dark gold silk. Heecheon steps back several seconds later, smoothing down the lapels of Yugo’s blazer, and he moves himself out of Yugo’s way. “What do you think?” he asks, looking to Yugo eagerly.

“I…” Yugo begins, voice hesitant and barely above a murmur. His eyes sweep his reflection up and down, and he swallows the lump in his throat. He looks so much different than he normally does. The red of his blazer is rich, complementing the gold of his tie nicely, and his khakis somehow seem to fit his legs perfectly, not too wide or too skinny in the wrong places (although Heecheon did have to roll the pant legs up, but he promised that he’d hem them for Yugo later).

“I look so professional,” Yugo says, quietly, spinning his torso left and right in awe. “And…”

“Handsome,” Heecheon offers. “Right? At least I think you look quite handsome.”

“Oh, I-I guess… thank you.” Yugo laughs shyly, fingers curling over his lips. The color in his cheeks brightens, and he presses his hands to his face, giving himself a once-over in the mirror again, trying to will away the heat in his face, convincing himself that the redness in his face and the thumping of his heartbeat is only because seeing himself in a suit is something very new. He takes a deep breath, calming himself, and turns, looking up at Heecheon, but avoiding staring him directly in the eye. Heecheon smiles reassuringly. 

“You’re going to ace your interview, Yugo.”

Yugo takes a deep breath. “I sure hope so,” he murmurs underneath his breath.

Heecheon must have heard him, because he replies, “Well, at the very least you’ll have impressed them with how well-dressed for the occasion you are.”

Yugo feels the heat returning to his cheeks, and he carefully peeks at Heecheon’s reflection in the mirror.

“Would you like me to hem those pants for you, Yugo?”

“O-Oh, yes, please,” Yugo replies. He stands there, expecting Heecheon to walk away and fetch his sewing supplies or something, at least until Heecheon points out, “You need to take them off before I can hem them, Yugo.”

“Right, s-sorry,” Yugo stutters, quickly slipping into a fitting room, almost tripping in his haste. When he’s changed back into his own clothing and reappears outside, he hands the folded articles of clothing to Heecheon.

“It’ll just be about fifteen minutes,” Heecheon says. “You can wait by the register or by t--”

“Um, can I watch you?” Yugo suddenly asks, eyes wide.

“Oh.” Heecheon looks taken aback for a moment, and Yugo winces on the inside. “Sor--” he begins, but the amused look on Heecheon’s face makes Yugo’s jaw snap shut.

“Of course!” Heecheon exclaims. “Come with me.” There’s a bounce in his step as he leads Yugo away, and Yugo feels giddy as he follows after Heecheon, legs slightly wobbly from an unknown feeling.

* * *

Just like any typical overly-excited college boy, Yugo tells his best friend about the man who helped him pick out a suit. He has the same glimmer in his eyes that you’d see in a teenage boy who made plans to woo his crush, except Yugo is all rounded corners and innocence and absolute refusal to admit that Heecheon is outright attractive, even when Reito bluntly interrupts his spiel, saying “So, you think he’s cute.”

“Uh--” Yugo stutters, eyes widening, “i-it’s not _exactly_ like that--”

Reito rolls his eyes, and Yugo frowns, pursing his lips. “Well, at least this time he isn’t someone who randomly passed you on the way to the bio building, so if you ever want to go talk to him again, just go back to that store I guess.”

“What would I even say?” Yugo half-wails, folding his arms across his chest. His voice comes out louder than expected, and the students sitting at the table a few meters away from their corner in the library look over in curiosity. “Sorry,” Yugo whisper-hisses, embarrassed.

“Buy another suit,” Reito suggests easily.

“I’m not made of money!” Yugo exclaims. “The jacket and pants together were a solid half of my savings, not even including the button d--”

“Gotta make some sacrifices for love,” Reito interrupts jokingly, throwing back his head and laughing, muffling his voice with a hand because they’re still in the library and Reito has already gotten in trouble before for cackling (or to him, that’s his normal laugh). 

Yugo takes it in all seriousness, and his hands ball into fists as he fumes at his friend. “You’re so unhelpful, why do I even talk to you about these things?” he mutters.

“Because you have no one else to go to, that’s why,” Reito states simply, shrugging. “Right?” he raises his eyebrows. “Anyways, just go back if you really want to talk to him again. Say you need extra adjustments or something.”

Yugo’s facial muscles relax just a bit as he thinks momentarily. “Oh,” he murmurs, “I guess that’s the most useful thing you’ve said all week.”

“Thanks?” Reito giggles, and off to the side, he jokingly adds, “I’m much more useful than you make me out to be, man. You just have trouble listening.”

Now it’s Yugo’s turn to roll his eyes. When he goes home later that day, he tries on his new suit again and looks for any spots that might possibly maybe sort of needs adjustment.

* * *

“Are you sure you want me to take the waist in a bit more? I feel like it might become a little tight,” is what Heecheon said, but Yugo still nodded, albeit hesitantly. Yeah, it’ll probably be a little tight since the current size fits Yugo well enough, but anything for an excuse to pop by the suit store again, right?

He silently watches Heecheon pull the thread and needle through the khaki material, tugging a few times since the fabric at the waist is relatively thicker than that of the pant legs. Today, there’s white tape around two fingers on Heecheon’s hand. It’s the hand that he uses to stitch, Yugo notes.

“Go try them on now, and let me know if you want anything else adjusted,” Heecheon says, minutes later. As expected, Yugo has to suck in slightly to fit the button of his pants through the hole, but it’s not _uncomfortable_ to wear, and that’s what matters. He reappears to the mirrors on the outside of the fitting rooms and Heecheon is waiting there patiently, just like last time.

“Looking good,” he comments, eyes looking Yugo up and down, and suddenly Yugo feels self-conscious. Actually, he kind of already feels self-conscious whenever Heecheon lays eyes on him, but that feeling just magnifies itself whenever he happens to be wearing the suit. 

“T-Thanks,” he murmurs, laughing shyly. His voice fades into silence, and panic settles in his chest when he realizes he doesn’t know what to say next -- god, this is so awkward, why did he even come back here again, why does he have to feel like he’s going to melt if Heecheon stares at him any longer--

And then, his eyes catch on Heecheon’s hand -- actually, on those two taped fingers in particular. “Um, your hand,” he says, hesitant, pointing a finger at Heecheon’s hand. “What happened?”

“Oh, this?” Heecheon lifts up his hand, flexing his fingers, as if experimenting to see if they would still bend. He smiles and shrugs. “You don’t need to look so worried, Yugo,” he comments, and Yugo hadn’t even realized his own face had tensed up when Heecheon moved his fingers. “It was just the sewing machine, that’s all. I looked away for too long and nearly sewed my fingers together.”

“That’s terrible,” Yugo says, instinctively scrunching his face up, “did it hurt a lot?”

“I think the actual punching thread into my fingers didn’t hurt that much, but yanking out the thread was an experience,” Heecheon replies, and he’s suddenly laughing, both at his own humor and at Yugo’s dumbfoundedly shocked expression. “Don’t worry about me, but thank you for asking.” He grins, crouching down a moment to adjust the ankle on one of Yugo’s pant legs. “You’re the first to do so.”

“Oh,” Yugo murmurs, blinking shyly as he watches Heecheon’s fingers smooth out the khaki fabric. “You’re welcome.”

“Did you have anything else you wanted adjusted, or is this all?” Heecheon asks, standing back up.

“That’s it.” Yugo unconsciously sighs, and turns his attention to his own reflection for once. Yeah, the pants still fit exceptionally well. As expected.

“If you ever have anything that needs to be adjusted or mended, even if it’s not a suit, just let me know. I can do that too.” 

“Really?” Yugo blinks up, looking at Heecheon’s reflection in the mirror. His reflection nods, assured. 

“I’m here every weekday from lunchtime to four, so come in at any point during that time.”

“Okay.” Yugo half-nods, obviously distracted, because he’s cataloguing his entire wardrobe in his head right at the moment. Does he have anything that he could possibly ask Heecheon to adjust or mend?

* * *

Well, turns out, he really doesn’t, not unless he brings Heecheon t-shirts he got for free from events that are too long to the point of looking dress-like on him, but he really has no need to hem those (let alone spend money on having them hemmed) because they exist as pajama shirts and _only_ as pajama shirts.

Yugo is smart, though, and so he comes up with two options: 1. Either go buy more clothing that’s obviously ill-fitting on him, or 2. Make holes in his own clothing. He contemplates both options, but he honestly can’t bring himself to take a pair of scissors to any of his own garments (even though it’s the cheaper option), and not to mention the only pair of scissors he can find in his dorm room are a pair of safety scissors with a dull blade and rounded tip, which might have difficulty cutting through construction paper, let alone fabric.

That means it’s time for him to go buy more clothing, but at the same time it’s not like Yugo has a job and can spend all the meaningless money he wants on clothes so he he has an excuse to go and see his dumb crush again. That is, unless he can somehow get clothes for cheap.

And that leads him to nervously asking Reito to go thrifting with him next week, which to Reito, is the biggest laugh of the century.

“Why in the world do _you_ want to go thrifting?” Reito had asked incredulously, still trying to recover from his wild outburst of laughter. They’re in one of the campus courtyards, so luckily Reito can cackle as loudly as he wants and no one but the crows will be pissed at him.

“I’m c-curious, that’s all,” Yugo weakly replied, face red and cheeks ablaze. “Please, just go with me,” he quietly added, hanging his head, as if pleading to the brick walkway.

He heard Reito take a deep breath, probably willing away the remains of his laughter. “Aw, okay, I’ll go with you. Only because you’re my friend and you look like you’re about to burst into tears at any moment if I say no.”

Yugo definitely wasn’t going to burst into tears--at least not _yet--_ but now that Reito pointed it out, he might as well actually cry.

* * *

This is what gave Yugo the ability to quietly pad into the suit shop with four different garments in his backpack and find Heecheon sitting at a table in the back of a shop staring critically at the side stitching on a pair of jeans. When he senses Yugo standing there and looks up, his face positively lights up.

Two oversized button-downs and two polos is what Yugo brought him, and the obvious giveaway is that all of it is too big for him, but Yugo also did try on all of it and analyzed himself in his bedroom mirror to see what else he could say other than “it’s too big”, because, you know, he actually wants to make it seem like he’s actually owned these shirts for a while and didn’t just buy them from a local thrift shop three days ago. The button-downs are a bit chunky-looking in the chest, the polos should have the sleeves hemmed. Yugo’s memorized it already.

“You didn’t strike me as the type to like a baggier style, although that’s certainly what’s in right now,” Heecheon murmurs, and for some reason, that statement just makes Yugo’s entire neck and up burn a bright scarlet. “I-I mean, that’s not a bad thing,” Heecheon clarifies, chuckling awkwardly.

“I-I’ve just had these sitting in the closet for… a while now…” Yugo blatantly lies, scratching the back of his head hesitantly. “B-By the way, if you’re busy--” he glances at the pair of jeans on the table that Heecheon had been staring at when Yugo walked in. “--I can always come back another time to um, c-come pick them up or something…”

Heecheon shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he reassures, and gesturing to the jeans, he adds, “these are my own, actually. So it’s okay, because I’ve gotta prioritize customers’ garments first.”

“Oh, okay!” Yugo replies, nodding. He rocks back and forth on his feet hands folded in front of his body as he watches Heecheon lay out the first shirt on the table.

Heecheon glances up, and the corners of his eyes crinkle in a smile. “As always, you’re welcome to watch. Pull up a chair if you want.”

“O-Oh…” Yugo’s limbs unnecessarily tremble as he sets down his backpack and slides into the plastic folding chair next to Heecheon, who pulls out a measuring tape and a notepad and begins to measure the shirt’s dimensions. Yugo bites his bottom lip nervously, glancing around at their surroundings before his eyes settle on the pair of jeans on the table. Up close, he notes that all the stitches look unfinished and rough, and pins hold patches of fabric against the pants themselves. On both ankles, the front side of the leg is noticeably shorter than the back, and the hem is jagged and fraying, as if cut messily by a pair of scissors.

Heecheon somehow notices Yugo’s blatant curiosity with the pair of pants. “I was sewing those for myself,” he idly comments. 

Yugo jumps an inch off of his seat, although he quickly recovers. “F-From scratch?” he asks, incredulously, eyes widening even more when Heecheon nods.

“I like to sew and design my own clothing.” He says it as casually as someone stating that they like chocolate ice cream, like it’s something that almost every person in the world does and that it’s nothing to be proud of.

This is how Yugo learns that Heecheon isn’t just a random seamster that happens to work in the only suit shop near campus, but he is in fact a lot of things that Yugo never really expected: a student in design that dares to conquer the 8:30 AM classes and sacrifice late night studying so he can work in a suit shop where most of his time is spent on his own projects anyways. 

It’s the first time Yugo has had a perfectly normal get-to-know-each-other conversation with him, and he almost forgets that he brought clothing to be adjusted in the first place until Heecheon has him try on the first polo with the adjusted sleeves, and Heecheon’s pride in his work is so painfully obvious in the way he marvels at the garment on Yugo (or Yugo himself?) when Yugo steps in front of the mirror. It makes Yugo immensely happy for some weird reason, and he has a spring in his step for the rest of the night even though Heecheon couldn’t finish all four pieces before he had to leave (and Yugo was disappointed for a solid 15-minute block at having to say goodbye).

For once, he feels like his silly crush is getting somewhere. Every week he pops by the suit shop with another piece of clothing to be adjusted, and every time he sits down with Heecheon and just talks, whether it be about his classes or his friends or his professors or what he saw when he was walking down the street just an hour ago. By the fourth week he’s feeling awkward and questioning if Heecheon finds it weird that he always has something for him to sew, but Heecheon never asks or points it out and that’s more than enough comfort space for Yugo to keep on doing what he’s doing (but at one point he realized he really shouldn’t be buying so many clothes for himself, so he begged Reito to dig around in his closet and see if he had anything that needed to be adjusted or mended).

It was a beyond stupid plan in the first place (even though Yugo forces himself to claim it was a smart idea), but somehow it’s all working out, especially when he braves asking to add Heecheon on Facebook and Heecheon didn’t even hesitate before saying “sure”. 

And now, fast forward, when Reito is really going to meet Heecheon, four months after Yugo’s first expedition into the suit shop and two-and-a-half months after the first time Heecheon asked Yugo to dinner, Yugo wants to tell his best friend all about it, because to him, it’s a story he can tell with wistfulness and romance in his eyes as if he was a customer at a restaurant and Heecheon was a handsome waiter and it was just somehow love at first sight -- and, not to mention Reito actually _did_ give him useful advice on how to pursue his crush, but Yugo just had to add a stupid twist to it.

Now he has 12 more shirts, 3 more pairs of pants, 2 more pairs of gloves, and an extra scarf compared to what he had four months ago (not including the suit), and not to mention he’s down about two-hundred-and-fifty solid dollars on top of it just from the clothing, let alone the cost for actual adjustments. 

It’s all worth it though, especially when he can walk into the suit shop at ease and wander through the racks and still find Heecheon at that back table with a sewing machine to his right and a box full of needles and spools of thread to his left. On some days he’ll be standing in front of the mirrors and Heecheon will drape fabrics over him and pin them in place, layer upon layer until it’s a little bit heavy on Yugo’s arms and shoulders, but he doesn’t care because it’s like he’s Heecheon’s model and mannequin and it honestly makes him immensely proud he can be granted with such an honor.

That’s also a reason why he feels nervous introducing Reito to Heecheon, because Heecheon doesn’t only make him happy, but also proud, and not just because he can brag to other people that his boyfriend happens to be older, tall, handsome, and a future fashion designer. Yugo is just reduced to a ball of mushy nice feelings whenever Heecheon does anything as much as smile at him.

It’s gross, and Reito will hate it, but it’s also Yugo’s chance to make Reito bathe in jealousy and eat his own words for once (but Yugo knows that Reito will try to spin it, because it was his advice that brought Yugo and Heecheon together, after all).

Yugo couldn’t be prouder. He really is the luckiest freshie in the world (and Reito will definitely hate that).

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> me, whispering to myself: i swear i have flexibility... i SWEAR i can write meet-cute kinda shit.. i sWEAR
> 
> thank u to the lovely r for proofreading!
> 
> on a very side note and thought, i don't know if anyone actually pays attention to what i post/when i post... it's been a while and i've lacked not only time to write, but creativity as well. it's gotten to the point where i contemplate if i should really just be translating good fic i find into english and bringing it to english-speaking readers instead of coming up with things myself... not sure if that's actually a viable idea!


End file.
